What Never Was In Gormenghast
by MayRaven
Summary: This story was inspired by a quick scene in the beginning of book two in the Gormenghast trilogy. Steerpike swings into Lady Fuchsia’s window and gives her a flower. It kinda has a life of itsown now.
1. Default Chapter

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Rated R for nudity and sexual situations!

Note: I own nothing except bits and pieces of original thought…. This story was inspired by a quick scene in the beginning of book two in the Gormenghast trilogy. While Steerpike is running around on the roofs setting up his network of mirrors he swings into Lady Fuchsia's window and gives her a flower. 

I thought this should have been in the mini-series but wasn't! Outrage! So basically I wanted to have fun and fill in some blanks of the story with whatever I please…. And whatever you please. Make suggestions, feedback, and give ideas as to what you thought should have happened and I will do my best to write them.

I am not a writer and I haven't written much. So please forgive any miss-portrayals. No stones please! But Reviews are good!

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A second note:I actually wrote this last summer but I liked it so I thought I would put it out there. But all of the above stuff still goes.

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Now on with the show…

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What Never Was In Gormenghast

It was strange, this feeling of doubt. Nothing had struck such a deep and desperate chord in his heart in all of the youth's short life. Steerpike closed his red-hot eyes tightly as he waited for his breath to return to him. How long had it been? He had been so stupid, careless, at a time when he was getting so close to his ultimate goal. Instead of a grand leap forward in his plans, Barquentine's death had created a new, painful obstacle. His only comfort was that the title of Secretary and Master of Ritual was now his. No one could take that simple pleasure from him. 

Steerpike's breath eased, but his chest still rose and fell with some difficulty. Most of the bandaging was gone. He would be out of bed in a day or two, but the damage remained. Fire was no longer his friend. Scars ran all over his body, marring both hands and half his face. The doctor had fit him with a mask, however it still irritated the raw flesh.

In his days of delirium he recalled many visits from Lady Fuchsia. Although he could not remember how many, Steerpike felt that any visit was a good sign. She couldn't be too frightened of his hideous disfigurement if she had braved to visit him during different stages of his recovery. He only hoped that the news of his attempt to save Barquentine had circulated Gormenghast and rekindled Fuchsia's passions for him through his heroism. 

Suddenly his train of thought was interrupted as door of Steerpike's small room creaked opened slowly. He opened his eyes to see a flag of black curls fall through the doorway. "Hello? Are you awake," came a soft child-like voice from behind the door. "Are you decent? I could come back…"

"No," Steerpike's voice cracked. He hated what happened and wanted to be alone, but couldn't let a conscious opportunity of talking to her Ladyship be wasted. "Please, come in," he said more controlled than a moment before. He sat himself upright as she stepped lightly over the his side and took a seat. 

"I brought you something. It isn't anything really, but the doctor said you had been in low spirits and I know that when I am in low spirits you always give me something. It is nice getting presents and I never gave you one for being such a hero." Fuchsia babbled until her face flushed. Then abruptly she shot out a fist that held in it tightly a wilting rose. 

"Oh," she cried. "It wasn't wilting before. I mean when the gardener cut it for me…. I was just so nervous. I stood out there so long, hoping to here you move, so that I would know it was alright to knock. I didn't want to wake you. Oh dear! I can get another." The flustered girl fidgeted ready to rise when Steerpike lay a bandaged hand gently on her arm.

"It is a fine flower, Lady Fuchsia," he said silver-tongued. "I am very honoured that you thought enough of me to bring me such a wonderful gift." He grinned convincingly through the pain. Lady Fuchsia smiled shyly and relaxed back into her chair. Her nervous eyes darted around the room and found a water glass, into which she planted the rose.

The two sat in complete silence for a time. Fuchsia played with her hair and watched the door. To Steerpike, she seemed to be acting as though she was afraid of being caught alone with him. Good, thought Steerpike, she should be afraid. This meant her feelings were near the surface and could be easily manipulated. However, not yet. Steerpike had let his eyes rest on her Ladyship too long.

Fuchsia realised she was being stared at and her eyes widened. "What is it? What are you looking at?" she said her voice rising into hysterics. "How dare you! I come here for a visit out of pity and you dare glare at me you ugly thing!" She stood and flailed her arms. Lady Fuchsia's mind was so simple it could only concentrate on one idea at a time. At this moment it was on the idea that her feelings for Steerpike were wrong and horrible, and he was horrible for making her have such feelings. "Ugly! That is what you are. They all say so. Half your face gone, you're a monster!"

Before Steerpike could recover from his mistake Fuchsia had already stormed from the room. It was always difficult to deduce whether she meant the things she said in tantrums, or whether she had any control over her words at all. Tired and frustrated, Steerpike slipped back under his bed-sheet. With one last glance to the rose in his glass, Steerpike fell asleep.

Excitement was in the air. Lady Fuchsia's heart danced beneath her breast. It has been five months now that she and Master Steerpike have been seeing each other in secret. Before Steerpike had taken position of Secretary they used to be free enough to take walks in the gardens, or in the woods surrounding Gormenghast. They could go anywhere she pleased as long as they were in the open. However, Titus's growing hatred of the high shouldered young man created the need for secrecy. Fuchsia detested her brother for being so selfish, but hiding was becoming like a game for her.

It was always Steerpike who chose the next meeting place because he was always good at knowing everything about the castle and who would be where, and when. Tonight they would meet in one of Keda's old rooms that adjoined to a servant's passage. The passage would make entering and leaving unnoticeable. 

Fuchsia brought with her an assortment of cheeses and some fresh bread. In her rush she had forgotten anything to drink. Fortunately, she remembered a bottle of spirits she had taken from the kitchens a fortnight ago that she kept hidden under her bed. She grabbed it on her way, making quite sure that she wasn't followed.

Upon entering the room, Fuchsia tossed the bottle onto the bed. The rest of her treasures she placed on a nearby writing table. Wildly, filled with thrill she turned, her hair tossing in the air and her red skirts twirling around her. But Steerpike was nowhere to be found. She continued to grin inanely for a moment or two and then she began to pout. 

She threw herself on the bed and found the bottle of spirits rudely sticking into her side. Pulling it from under her, Fuchsia opened the mostly full bottle and took a good swig of its contents. "Blah! Quite revolting!" she moped. Sighing deeply, she took another sweep of the room; still alone. _How dare he_, she thought and she took another swig.

By the time Steerpike did arrive, over an hour later, Fuchsia could barely hold herself up. This was not planned, but what a stroke of luck for Steerpike that he came late. There she sat, drunk, Lady Fuchsia Groan. Her face rosy and eyes half-closed. She gasped loudly upon seeing his form. "Oh, you! Where have you been?"

"I needed time to get away. The Countess, your mother, wanted to see me last minute. What was I to do? Tell her I had to put her off to come see you?" he smirked. She barely noticed his condescending tone. She was too busy playing with his lips as he spoke. He took her hand from his face. "Are you well, Lady Fuchsia?" He bit his cheek to keep from laughing. 

"I am fine. And yourself?" she asked, her head rolling from one side to another. She smiled. He smiled back. She laughed. He laughed back at her. "Take this," she offered the mostly empty bottle. He took it from her

Steerpike wrapped an arm behind Fuchsia's back to support her. She frowned at first, but then she looked into his eyes (or at least into the good one, she avoided the other) and she softened. Her fingers returned to his red mouth and continued their play. "I miss seeing you," she said slightly slurred. 

He knew she had meant all of him, without the mask. Steerpike didn't like being this close to her, where she could see his face. Mask or no mask. He had forgotten until her words met his ear. "Lady fuchsia I…" he began, but she spoke again before he could finish.

"What is it like? Do you feel things the way you always did? I wish you would tell me. I wish you would be like you were. Full of life and youth. You seem so unhappy now. So old some days that I don't even know you. Where are you? I miss you, my adventurer. Do you ever miss me?"

He hadn't expect this. Steerpike was caught off guard and it showed. Fuchsia had a way of dreaming through her imagination that Steerpike still couldn't understand or predict. What did she mean? Did he feel things the way he always did? And did she mean physically or emotionally? He wasn't aware he ever felt much at all in either case. "I feel as I always have. As for the rest, I just got older I suppose."

"Oh?" she cooed. "I wish you hadn't." Fuchsia's thumb slowly caressed Steerpike's lower lip. "Can you feel this?" As she reached the scarred corner of his mouth, the tip of her thumb slipped behind his mask. Steerpike pulled away immediately. He groaned in anger. Not wanting to frighten the girl, he faced her and shrugged his high shoulders. "I felt _that_," he said with a grin.

Fuchsia could feel tears welling up, and begin to trickle down her hot cheeks. He made her cry, but she knew that somehow it was her own fault. So, she swallowed hard and collected herself. "I should go. You should go." She bobbed once in an attempt to lift herself from the bed to no avail. Steerpike came and sat next to her. He decided to try one last time to pull this off. 

"Lady Fuchsia, it is late and you are tired, and intoxicated I'm afraid. You won't make it on your own to your rooms. And if I am seen carrying you at this hour it will be the end of me. So, I propose you sleep here and I will go", he said full of false virtue.

"Yes, that sounds quite good. I like it." Relieved on her agreement, Steerpike helped Fuchsia off the bed and pulled down the bedding. Once she was under the covers, he began to move to the door. He wasn't sure how long it would take her to pass out and it looked like she wanted him to leave now. He would have to come back later.

As he reached for the doorknob, Fuchsia leapt from the bed and held Steerpike's arm. "Oh I am so desperately sorry! I wasted our whole night. Please don't hate me. If you forgive me I will be so happy."

Steerpike grinned with his face to the door. "No worries, Ladyship. You haven't done anything wrong. I need not forgive anything." He removed her grip from his arm and caught her by the shoulders before she could fall.

"You are so kind, I could kiss you," she sparkled drunkenly.

Did she say kind? Fuchsia was truly not herself and it was time to take advantage. "Shall you, then?" He enticed.

"Shall I what?" Her brow furrowed in confusion, when it came to her. "Kiss you? I couldn't. I am a Lady and it isn't proper. Besides, it is men who give kisses. Women only receive them."

Steerpike licked his lips… "Don't be frightened ladyship. It won't hurt," he purred. Fuchsia's breath quivered in anticipation. She could barely keep focus. The red dress felt as though it was made of brick, weighing her down. Her head swam and she swooned into his arms. Steerpike laughed to himself. Greedily, he stole a kiss from her parted lips. How unfortunate she was not awake to share in it. 

The next question that preyed on his mind: clothes or no clothes. He planed to have her discover him in her bed at daybreak, but should he leave it all to her imagination or would the illusion have more success with the further encouragement of nudity? 

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Calmly Steerpike lay the unconscious Fuchsia onto the bed. After easily removing her shoes, stalkings and top crimson petty coat, he moved onto untying her very loose corset and tossed it aside. Obviously no one had taught her how to where one properly. 

As the youth placed a hot hand onto Fuchsia's waist to remove her under-blouse she sighed heavily and opened her eyes. Steerpike's heart stopped.

"Hello you," she sighed. Steerpike swallowed hard. She seemed to be dreaming. Her eyes fluttered and closed. Was she asleep? He hoped so. Leaning Fuchsia forward he lifted the blouse over her head. Once the blouse was gone he lay his head down on her rising chest. Then, taking great liberties, he slyly slipped one hand under her skirt and proceeded to pull off her bloomers. Last to go was the underskirt. 

Steerpike hesitated for a moment starring at her small, bare breasts. Was this the right time? As good a time as any he supposed. He had seen women naked before. His own mother one of them. Being poor and in close quarters left little to the imagination. He would not be phased. She was no different than any of the other members of the Groan family. He had already been the cause of three of their deaths. Fuchsia's demise should be no different.

"Except that it is," Steerpike whispered to no one. It was different because he would have to control her emotions. Emotions that the twins didn't and Lord Groan never had. He couldn't just off her anytime he wanted. He had to finish using her first. And what if it all backfired and the silly thing became suicidal or worse betrayed him to her mother. It could all end quickly without any warning.

While his mind was distracted, Steerpike's hands removed the last item that clothed the sleeping girl. Now naked and helpless, Fuchsia was rolled onto her side. Steerpike busied himself with tossing her clothes about the room. He spilt the remaining spirits over the bed and onto her scattered clothes. This had to be convincing.

His wandering eye trailed down Fuchsia's pale abdomen. Steerpike knew that what he had to do next was necessary for his cause. Quickly, he threw off all his clothes making sure to pile them all together. Once the few candles in the room were out he carefully untied his mask. Then he lay down beside Fuchsia and rolled her toward him. For a moment, in the darkness, they lay together as if the picture of the purest love and innocence. 

But the moment passed and Steerpike pulled Fuchsia into a messy kiss. His numb lips forced on hers. Her chest crushed against his. His genitals rubbing on hers. Steerpike squeezed his eyes shut as he reached between her legs. Kissing her still, his fingers searched their way inside her. 

Suddenly Fuchsia moaned loudly, again and again. With each of his movements her pleasure increased. Her hand reached up and her nails dug into his shoulder. He ignored her at first until she gasped his name through her dream and he felt he would vomit. 

Steerpike fell off the bed and sat rocking for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, the thing on the bed quieted itself. He was weak. Not for her, but for himself. Steerpike wasn't ready, even if Fuchsia was ripe for the taking. "Damn it," he whimpered. "So stupid." He knew his cheeks were burning, but he wouldn't let one tear fall. Taking a slow uneven breath, he calmed himself. "This will have to do," he reasoned. "The stage is set. She will have to believe it really happened. I know she will. After all this hadn't been a dream." 

In the morning Fuchsia awoke, nude and tangled in wine stained sheets. Her clothes were everywhere and she was alone. She sat up with a start and felt her lips…Was it just another dream? She swore she could still taste him. It was all so real…Too real even for her. Fuchsia had decided to disregard the whole thing, when she found blood under the fingernails of her right hand and there wasn't a scratch on her. "Oh Nanny, what have I done?"

By mid-day Titus had escaped from his old dusty classroom and disappeared into the woods. Fuchsia, not fully recovered from the activities of the night before, wandered aimlessly pretending to search for her brother. This was the third time in as many weeks and she found his foolish games of hide-and-seek tiresome. At least when she was his age she had sense to go to the same place every time. If Titus always went to the same place she would have found him by now. 

At gathering for the search Fuchsia saw _him _for the first time that day_._ Steerpike was taking great authority over organising the parties. What presence he commanded, even in crisis. Fuchsia admired him for it. She knew if she had been left in charge she would have fallen to pieces. 

Oh dear, she was thinking of _him _again. She had to stop doing that. He had barely looked at her that afternoon and never spoke a word. He made her feel ill, but not in the usual way. This was new and unrecognisable. She couldn't talk to him and she was going mad over not remembering what had happened.

"I shall go back to my complete solitude," she stated matter-of-factly to herself. "It will be better for me. No men ever. No more Steerpike and no more drink." She continued to think up resolutions for her new way of life as she climbed over lifeless rocks, dead branches and other fallen forest obstacles. 

"I don't need company. Titus is so selfish. He doesn't care what I do. He won't miss me. Mother surely won't either. Nanny was the only one who would care. I know she would. Poor Nanny. Even Dr. Prune has stopped giving me gifts. But Steerpike gives me presents!" Fuchsia paused. Her expression became sour and her lower lip jutted out in a childish pout. "OH! I am not to see him now, or ever. He was what started all of this."

She paused again and looking around, she did not recognise where she was. She hadn't been paying much attention to the path and now it was no where to be seen. Nothing felt familiar and as if defeated by an invisible foe, Her Ladyship Fuchsia Groan dropped harshly to the ground. "What shall I do?" She began pulling up grass with frustrated hands. 

Suddenly, the sound of a branch snapping came from behind her. Fuchsia nearly toppled over trying to turn around her skirts heavy with mud. "Who's there? I demand you tell me!" she cried, her voice quivering. She was afraid. It would be dark soon. If that sound had been another searcher, she was saved. If it had been a wild beast, she would most certainly be killed. If it were Steerpike? The way he had made her feel earlier she would rather welcome the beast.

Nothing. She waited and called again. Still nothing. Fuchsia lifted herself with some difficulty from the damp earth. She slowly walked back to where she thought the sound had come from. There was nothing there. She walked a bit farther into the trees until she could hear the rushing of water. Fuchsia's eyes lit up. The waterfall! She used to play by it with Nanny Slag when she was a child. She could find her way home from there. 

Fuchsia ran as fast as she could toward the sound. The brush was thick and it was hard to see where exactly she was going. When the trees finally parted she stood in awe of what she found. Not only was the waterfall more beautiful than she had remembered, but there was a man standing under it, completely naked. 

Fuchsia covered her open mouth with one hand and braced herself on a tree-trunk with the other. What was _he _doing here? And what was he _doing_? She was in shock. Not knowing what else to do she decided to keep perfectly still in hopes that he wouldn't see her. 

"He's not looking for Titus at all." After she spoke it, Fuchsia frowned and thought to herself, _Here is a naked Steerpike, what do I care if he is looking for Titus_. Then something came back to her. A dream, or a memory. The hand at her mouth moved slowly down to her breast. She imagined a naked Steerpike embracing her, caressing her own nude form. Her cheeks flushed. Not wanting to faint, she tried to shake it off, breathing deeply.

Steerpike finished bathing and swam up to the shoreline. The water glistened on his bare skin. His skin, Fuchsia hadn't seen since that day by Gormenghast Lake so many years ago, but she had never seen so much of it. She couldn't help but gape at the mottled scarring that spread over his anatomy. It really wasn't as nightmarish as she had imagined. He was still her Steerpike…He was still a man.

With his face still masked he seemed quite content to Fuchsia. He vigorously shook, spraying water in all directions like a dog. Then, bending in half with one quick motion, he playfully tossed back his wet locks. Fuchsia could not tear her eyes away from his manhood. She had never seen such a thing before and was dazzled by the way it danced when he moved. Steerpike's lips curled, as he casually lay down on the grass, left arm behind his head, staring skyward.

The girl sank down to her knees. In spite of herself she came back to reason. "This is wrong you naughty girl. You said no men, least of all Steerpike," she grumbled. But she didn't want to listen to herself. "Maybe I'll stay a bit longer…I have never seen him this way." Fuchsia fidgeted in place to get comfortable, making sure not to make a noise. The rush of the water should have been enough to keep him from hearing her, but she was so excited she feared he would.

Steerpike meanwhile was enjoying himself. Those silly simpletons thinking he was concerned over his Lordship. Gone for hours, searching wildly, they would think. He laughed softly to himself. He hadn't felt so relaxed, or so free since the "accident". No one was here to see him, or judge him. He could do as he pleased. Not that anything ever really kept Steerpike from doing as he pleased. But here there was no Titus. No Countess Gertrude. Only himself and nature.

The water made him feel clean again. Being clean was an obsession and after last night all he wanted was to get clean. He didn't sleep much that night. When he drifted off, almost asleep he could still here her moan his name. He didn't love her. He shouldn't have cared. All of it had been too personal. Next time he would be ready for her reactions. 

Sleepily, Steerpike let has limbs go limp as his right hand trailed lazily up and down his torso. He knew he would have to return to Gormenghast, but not yet. With a yawn he was gone. Completely still except the rise and fall of his chest. Fuchsia hadn't blinked once. Her mouth was dry and her knees were weak. 

Asleep, he was asleep! Now was her chance to leave without him ever knowing she was had been there. So why were her feet taking her closer to him? Fuchsia tiptoed over to his sleeping form and stood directly over him blocking the sun. She was so nervous and elated and at her boldness that every inch of her shook. 

Fuchsia sat on her haunches, her crimson dress gathered around her. Her black locks fell close enough to touch his flesh. She went to move the hair behind her back before it could wake him. Oops! Her fingers brushed his lower abdomen. _Oh! What am I doing!? _Her mind screamed at her. But her body would not listen. It was too busy responding to her stronger sexual desires. She let her fingers brush his skin again. 

She caressed his stomach and wandered down his thigh. She had never been so intimate with a man before, little did she know of the previous night's events, and suddenly understood why Irma Prunesqualor had been so obsessed with getting a husband. She then moved to the unmarred side of Steerpike's face and kissed his earlobe.

His response was nothing she had ever imagined. She had read of such things in the books that Pr. Prune had in his study. However, those descriptions were purely technical and scientific. There was nothing erotic in _reading_ about the male erection. _Seeing_ it was amazing and awesome to Fuchsia. She fell back, gasped and let out a high squeal.

Steerpike sat up in a shot, startled. His head turned wildly to see what it was that had caused such a noise. He found Fuchsia next to him, her eyes terrified. Suddenly very aware of himself, Steerpike frantically grabbed for something to wear. He pulled on his sombre black pants. 

"Lady Fuchsia?" he said unevenly. "Forgive me. I thought no one would see me." He took her by the shoulders as he talked. She stopped breathing and fainted straight away. He pulled he into the waterfall to wake her. The cold liquid did the trick and Fuchsia coughed to consciousness.

"Lady Fuchsia, Lady Fuchsia! Are you alright?" the urgency of Steerpike's words was real. He had no idea how long she had been standing there or what she must think of him. "Fuchsia?" She could do nothing but stare into his face. He stood holding her upright, both waist deep in the cool shallows. 

Finally she whispered, "I saw you. All of you." 

Silence. 

He couldn't think fast enough to find the right words. Then he felt a weight on his crotch. Fuchsia's hand was perched on his protruding bulge. Her eyes fell to meet her find. She smiled mischievously. Steerpike didn't know what to make of her advance. He couldn't help but want her. He yearned for release. 

"Ladyship?" He needed her to say the words. If this became her choice the rewards would be innumerable in the future. She would be under his thumb, among other things. "Is this what you want?"

Yes it was. She was no longer afraid. Fuchsia closed her hand tighter and whispered in his ear, "yes". Steerpike moaned and caught her mouth. In a passion they kissed. The cold water couldn't penetrate through the heat that burned inside them. They were groping each other as if to save themselves from drowning. Steerpike struggled to drag Fuchsia to the bank out of the water.

Once out of the water he lifted her crimson skirts and fought to lower his trousers. Without warning he thrust himself into her and she cried out. She could do nothing but watch his face as he pushed in harder and harder until he climaxed. His body shook and Fuchsia pull at his hair. Tears streamed down her face and there had been no moaning in pleasure of his name. This time she could only moan in pain.

Fuchsia sobbed into Steerpike's high, bare shoulder. She couldn't understand why her body craved such a painful act. She could hear him panting in her ear, and feel him throb inside her. The most fearful thing about what was happening was that she didn't want it to end. Never had she felt so alive, or more real.

Soon they both calmed. Steerpike slid to Fuchsia's side. He let out a slow steady breath and looked down at the woman beside him; no longer a girl. She smiled, which confused him. Steerpike had been waiting for her to scream that she hated him, running off accusingly. But then, without delay, Fuchsia lifted her mouth to his and began kissing him all over again. 

Steerpike was first to brake the kiss. "Lady Fuchsia," he whispered, "we must go. The others, your mother and her council will miss us and will want to know where we have been. Especially Lord Titus, your brother, if they have found him." He could see that she was concentrating, taking in his words very slowly. What he was saying was important. 

Fuchsia nodded as he palmed her small chin. Tenderly, he kissed her forehead. Fuchsia smiled sweetly, for despite the aching deep within her she would not have traded this moment for all the world. Ugly as he was, she did love Steerpike. Yes, she loved him. She could still see a lingering beauty of his youth and vitality. 

Seeing and experiencing his body so intimately had changed Fuchsia forever. _If he will continue to visit me in this way, I will never be sorrowful ever again, _she thought. It was this new thought that replaced all the rest. She would show them…All of them. He is no monster.

Steerpike dressed carefully, checking for dirt and bugs with every piece of clothing. He was no longer clean from his bath in the waterfall, but he did not feel dirty. Steerpike felt triumphant. He had gone into battle and won. He had won over Fuchsia, but more importantly over himself. He was now ready to go forward with his plans. From Kitchen boy adventurer to Master of ritual, and now owner of Fuchsia Groan's soul. 

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Intermission : Hot and Bothered

A heavy heat hung in the air throughout Gormenghast. The mid-day sun cast hazy rays onto the open common-courtyard. Titus Groan starred out on the old stones. How he hated them. Those old stones had no real value to Titus. A young man approaching his sixteenth birthday. He scowled down at the hot courtyard. 

However, the courtyard and the stones of his heritage were not the only matters pressing on Titus' occupied mind. Mr. Flay continued to tell him of finding the Master of Ritual in all corners of Gormenghast. Titus didn't really care much about this news; it was old and already known. 

It was the news Flay brought of seeing his dear sister in the woods day after day singing to herself. She had always seemed such a sad forgotten thing to Titus, a silly girl who had made silly promises to him as a boy, but now spent all her time alone and barely seen. It didn't sit right with Titus that his sister was suddenly out and about, singing. Was she in love?

Nonsense! Then again if she were in love then the two of them would have a new connection. Titus was in love with the 'wild thing', but Fuchsia could never know someone as wonderful as her. No she won't take that from him. _How selfish she is_. He thought.

Just then a shadow cut through the heated rays of sunlight. Master Steerpike made his way across the courtyard in his half-walking, half-running manner. Head low and swordstick tucked under one arm. Titus sneered at him. Although Titus was Earl of Gormenghast and despised the new secretary with every fibre of his being, he had no real reason to dispose of Steerpike. 

Titus spat out the window in disgust. The saliva sizzled as it hit the stones, missing Steerpike by mere feet. Titus smirked and began to daydream imagining that he had hit his target. In his daydream, the look on Steerpike's face was priceless.

**End Intermission**

In Fuchsia's daydreams Steerpike's face was even more priceless. He always looked as he once had; whole. His intense eyes reaching into her very soul. His mouth curving ever so slightly whenever he got her to laugh. Oh how much fun they had together in her daydreams. 

They had tea and talked for hours just the two of them alone in her attics. If she ever stopped smiling he would kiss her softly on the cheek and hold her lovingly in his arms. At night, she could still feel him inside her, his weight pressing down on her. 

Her body would burn with unrelenting desire, but upon waking, Steerpike wasn't there. Not in her bed, or in her room. He never came to her attics, nor did they have tea. He never kissed her, never held her. In fact Steerpike had been so busy lately she never saw him, except in her daydreams.

The sadness only came at night. During the day Her ladyship knew nothing but daydreams and happiness. Her humming echoed as sweetly as the cooling breeze. At night, something went missing. He had left her wanting. She longed for their visits. The long hours they had spent talking and laughing were barely even a memory. All of it gone with no explanation. Fuchsia didn't need one. It was her actions that had caused the rift. She had taken advantage of a loyal servant, a good man. She had frightened him away. Neither one could take back the actions that took place by the falls. How stupid she felt. They both agreed that it would be best to pretend it never happened. Her virtue would not be tainted and he would not lose his life. Yes, it had been a smart agreement. Only she still felt stupid.

Well, one day enough was enough. Like thunder Fuchsia Groan stormed down the corridor leading to the Secretary's offices. The ancient doors swung heavily inward slamming on either wall. The sudden jolt startled all the earnest bookkeepers and lackeys. "Where is he!" She raged. All stared in astonishment. None responded. "Where is your Master?" she spat. "I hate him, where is he?"

They all looked at one another as though she spoke in a foreign tongue. Then one bald man in spectacles stood to address her ladyship. "He…That is Master Steerpike, Ladyship, is performing the ritual of grain harvest with your brother, His Lordship Titus Groan." The man bowed and sat.

"Oh. Of course." Fuchsia casually smoothed her hair and patted her skirt. Once collected, the young woman walked calmly back out the still open doors. As soon as she was gone the workers returned to their duties as though they were never disturbed.

The harvesters were hurriedly collecting grain as Steerpike, standing tall next to a slouching Lordship, boomed words of tradition and ritual. Titus yawned with increasing disdain and rolled his eyes every time Steerpike began a new passage. He could not decide which was worse the endless droning of the man's voice, or the condescending manner of which he seemed to deliver his speech. At least this ritual was effortless on Titus' part. It wasn't life threatening or arduous like some of the other tasks he had performed over the last few months. He swore that Steerpike was making some of them up in attempt to cause him grief, or worse, death.

"And as this all comes to pass the people are reminded of the glory bestowed upon them by the greatness and vastness of his majestic Lordship, Titus Groan the 77th Earl of Gormenghast…"

"Shut it already!" Titus snapped. "I swear you said this already. Are you trying to dull us all to death?" 

"No, Lordship, I am merely reciting the law of your ancestors. It is tradition. It is Gormenghast, Lord Titus," Steerpike quipped.

"Enough already," the boy retorted. Pushing past the secretary Titus walked toward the harvesters. "Good job everyone. Why don't you quit early today? I am sure you have better things to be doing." 

The workers froze in place, as though paralysed by his words. Then mumbles began and panic spread. Steerpike knew the workers were mindless drones and could never handle a sudden dose of freewill. 

"His Lordship meant nothing by his words just now." Steerpike waved the workers on. "Please continue for you have been chosen by the grade of your breeding, and it is your profound duty to serve Gormenghast by this task." The harvesters sprang back to life instantly. 

"Respect, Lordship, but you cannot change tradition. These people are your people and it is disrespectful to them, to yourself, and to the house of Groan to halt proceedings so distastefully. Now, May I continue?"

Titus sighed and rolled his eyes again. "Whatever…But from where you were. I will have your throat slit and go without a Master of Ritual if you start from the beginning all over."

"As you wish, Lordship," Steerpike mused. He loved how easily he could rise above the Earl's head in these matters. Titus was so unworthy of his bloodline. He thought how deserving Titus would be to have everything taken from him. "As I was saying…"

Just as Steerpike cleared his throat to drawl on, Lady Fuchsia came running through the field. "Master Steerpike!" She was practically tripping over herself she was in such a rush. Her arms whirling about her as she tried to keep her balance. "Steerpike, I must speak to you," she called.

Although relieved by the interruption, Titus did not like the urgency in his sister's voice. Why did she need to talk to _him_ so urgently? The two moved away in a hurry and Titus could not hear their conversation. This vexed him terribly, not that anyone took notice, and he stomped off toward the woods.

"Lady Fuchsia, what is so important?" Steerpike bit his cheek to keep from snapping at her. His eyes where intense, darting from the raven-haired girl to her brother to the workers and back. He saw Titus take his leave and wasn't sure if this was a goof turn of events or a bad one. "Look, ladyship," he waved an elegant arm in the direction of the boy. "His Lordship leaves. We have insulted him." 

Fuchsia glanced briefly over her shoulder then shook her head. "I don't care about that. This is about me! This is about Fuchsia, me!" Suddenly she sprang at him for an embrace. Luckily Steerpike reacted as if knowing her every movement moments before they happened. "Why don't you see me, or I see you?" She spouted in a half-whisper.

Steerpike's eyes widened as if to imply that he was shocked and surprised by such a question. In truth he had been waiting for it for some time. Holding her at bay with both hands on her shoulders, he slowly led her into the shadows of the trees. No sense in letting their scandal out too soon. "I thought it inappropriate, we agreed that we should act as though nothing happened. I thought it best, Lady Fuchsia, that we are not be seen together for some time." She watched his mouth as he spoke, struggling against him for a kiss. "I also have my suspicions that perhaps we were followed that day and someone might know of our affair." 

"Affair…" Fuchsia repeated grinning. She clearly missed the severity of his words. "That was what we are having isn't it? We are having an affair." She searched his eyes lovingly and he pretended to search hers. He could see how silly she was for him. But was it safe to take advantage repeatedly, and so soon? 

Elsewhere, Titus Groan stalked up behind Mr Flay at his telescope on the lowest ridge of Gormenghast Mountain. "Anything interesting?"

"Not today, young Lordship." Flay spoke deeply without turning away from his study. His knees cracked as he shifted from one foot to another. Titus was quickly losing interest and he rolled his eyes. What good was Flay if he didn't have news. He turned to go when Flay jerked the telescope. "Wait Lordship. See thing in shadow."

"Where? Where is it? Where is my Wild Thing?" He hadn't seen the wild girl for what seemed like ages. "Where do you see her?" he asked with increasing excitement. "I demand you tell me!"

"Not "thing" Young Lordship. Beast. Monster." Flay looked to Titus. Clearly the boy was confused. "Look!" Titus took hold of the scope and squinted into the eyepiece. He saw nothing at first but after a moment he saw it. Steerpike, the monster, was advancing on his sister. Titus fumed, he pushed the telescope roughly and ran out of sight. If Steerpike were doing what it looked like he was doing there would be hell to pay.


	2. What will be, will be

Well...um...ok... So here I am two years later and I think, "hey it would be a fun thing to start up that old Gormenghast story again. Oh yes and of course thanks to my few readers: Octavia, Catcher-in-the-Rye, Cate O'Hara, and most recently Scarywhit. So here is a small update to hopefully re-inspire. Let me know what you think. Reviews are good things.  
  
Oh and just so you are aware, the first chapter was written over a few months and I'll try to write when ever I can(  
  
~MayRaven  
  
What Never Was In Gormenghast continued...  
  
Titus waited silently in his sister's rooms for her return. He fumed over what he had witness out in the fields and the memory made him ill. That grotesque embracing poor innocent and simple Fuchsia. The angry young man didn't know what he was going to do to end this unfortunate turn of events, but he knew he would have to do something about it himself. His mother, Countess Groan, would probably ignore the situation until it was too late.  
  
Fuchsia skipped merrily down the corridors leading to her wing of Gormenghast. Her happy tune echoing off stones announcing her arrival. Titus made ready the speech of her dishonour to their family. Fists tight, he took a deep breath as he watched the old oak door creek open. "Lady Fuchsia, you should be ashamed of your actions," he yelled.  
  
Fuchsia stood a moment dumbfounded eyes wide. She glared at her younger brother and her mouth began moving without words as she tried to think of what had meant. Instead of trying to defend herself for something she didn't know she'd done, Fuchsia turned the accusations on Titus.  
  
"What are you doing here?" she asked pointing a harsh finger into Titus' chest. "In my rooms," she continued, "with my things! You've not been here in ages and now you turn up without invitation! How dare you!" she growled circling him.  
  
Titus remained still. He closed his eyes and counted to ten. It would seem that getting through to his sister would be a much more difficult task than he had envisioned. Losing his temper at her now would only get him thrown from her rooms and then it would take weeks before she would face him again. No, Titus had to stay calm no matter how she acted out.  
  
"Well, answer," she prompted.  
  
"I came here because I saw you this afternoon in the mangled arms of that monster," he said in a low monotone voice allowing his eyes to meet hers.  
  
Fuchsia looked Titus over in frustration. Could this be a trick? No, only rational sincerity loomed in her brother's words and expression. He had seen them. She had been caught and now she was afraid.  
  
"That was private!" she cried. "You should not have spied."  
  
Titus remained silent for a moment waiting to see if Fuchsia had anything else to say. But she didn't. Her lips drew into a tense line and her brow furrowed. He could tell her was too emotional to find her words. "Fuchsia, just end it now. I'll have that ghastly man thrown out and you can be happy again."  
  
"Happy? He makes me happy!" she blurted then slapped both hands over her mouth to stop more condemning from coming out.  
  
Titus moved on her, his anger too intense to hold in any longer. "You're talking madness Fuchsia! You can't want Steerpike to touch you, kiss you. He is so below you even the gutters are above him. Don't you see? If you don't cast him out now you'll be just as disgusting and dirty as Steerpike!"  
  
Titus' last words struck Fuchsia to the core. 'Dirty' and 'disgusting'. She could not abide being called such things. The crimson dress crumpled beneath her as Fuchsia dropped to the floor in wailing tears.  
  
"I cannot be those things!" she gasped between fits. "I am Fuchsia, I am Groan," she sobbed. "But I cannot be alone."  
  
"You won't be, sister," Titus said crouching, moving raven strands out of Fuchsia red face. "You can see Doctor Prunesqualor everyday and even I will find time to play with you."  
  
Fuchsia smiled slightly. "You will?" she asked with a touch of child-like fancy. "And we can play in the courtyard and run through the forests?"  
  
Titus rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. All of the things we used to do." If this was what it was going to take Titus was going to do it.  
  
Fuchsia didn't take notice of the reluctance in her brother tone. She clapped her hands and rose to her vanity to check her face. "Good. Now we don't have to send Master Steerpike away. I do still love to hear his stories every now and then."  
  
"No Lady Fuchsia!" Titus scowled at her reflection. "He must go. If not, you must promise me that you will never see him again."  
  
Fuchsia knew that there was no challenging Titus' authority. "Yes, I promise," she swore meeting his eyes in the mirror. "No more shall I ever speak to or secretly see Master Streerpike, unless it is to do with ritual." She paused a moment as Titus took a breath of relief and turned to go. "However," she added, "You must also promise me that you will never from this day on sneak off to be with that wild thing."  
  
Titus was shocked that his simple sister had come up with such a devious ploy to counter his demands. He thought for only a second then agreed and shook Lady Fuchsia's outstretched hand. What else could he do? Well, he hadn't dealt with Steerpike yet. And that was something he looked forward to doing.  
  
TBC... 


End file.
